I Hate Myself for Loving You and You
by secretmonkey
Summary: Kreamy. Yup, Kreamy. After her dream and another spectacular relationship fail with Liam, Karma begins to wonder about her real feelings and attractions. For Amy. And for Amy's girlfriend.
1. Chapter 1

If hell is real, Karma decides, then there is a very special level of it just for men like Liam Booker.

Or maybe, she thinks, for men in general.

(Though she does reserve the right to change her mind on that, assuming that is, that she ever meets a man who isn't gay (Shane), her father (Lucas), or a giant dick (Liam '_is _ a giant dick, sure as hell doesn't _have_ a giant dick' Booker).

'I love you', he'd said. 'You've changed me,' he'd said. 'I'm sorry I fucked your best friend,' he'd said.

Actually, come to think of it, he _hadn't_ said that last one. Come to think of it, Karma can't remember Liam actually apologizing for what he'd done at all. For lying about it, yes. But for actually doing it? For actually _having sex_ with her best friend?

Not a word.

Unless you count putting all the blame squarely on Karma.

(And if Karma thinks that maybe that's how it _always_ works in her life, that she gets the blame for everything? Well, she might not be far off.)

Liam was all about blaming her. Saying it was because she broke his heart. A heart he only knew he had because of her, and so didn't his newfound emotion and love and all that, didn't that just make everything OK?

(Special level, Karma thinks. Special level with extra hellfire. More pitchforks. Extraordinarily ugly women that Liam can't stop fucking for all of eternity.)

(And those ugly women? They cum. Over and over and over. And Liam?)

(Let's be real. Special level, remember?)

It had never been in the plan - and Karma _had_ a plan - to go back to him. Not even after the whole 'I just got out of jail thanks to you, so I'll throw you one last pity fuck' debacle.

Karma barely even remembers _him_. Mostly, she remembers the dream. The one where Reagan made out with Amy, and Karma made out with Amy.

(And Liam made out with Amy, because Amy is - in Karma's dream - a total slut. But Karma forgets that part.)

(Mostly.)

But, after that, Karma had chalked Liam up as a notch on the bedpost. (She was trying to be macho about it. What's good for the goose and all that.) He was out of her system, she was over him.

(And if, being unable to dream about anything _but_ Reagan and Amy for the next few weeks signaled anything to Karma, it was that she was 100% over Liam Booker.)

(Any other signals? Yeah… what signals?)

The perfect Ferrari of boyfriends image was shattered. The fairy tale of landing the hottest guy in school had turned into the kind of fairy tale the Grimm brothers actually wrote. The ones where the kids really get eaten, the witch always wins, and the dream guy fucks your soulmate while you're crying your eyes out with your mom.

(OK, so maybe the Grimms didn't write that _exact_ story. But, Karma is_ positive_, if they'd ever been teenage girls and had been forced to deal with teenage boys, they most certainly _would _have.)

(And if the fact that she blames it all on _boys_ says anything to Karma…)

Yeah, let's face it. None of it says anything to Karma like it would to _anyone _else.

(Not _yet_.)

So, going back to Liam wasn't in the plan. And the plan, as far as Karma plans go, was very simple.

_**Step 1: Rebuild friendship with Amy**_

_**Step 2: Avoid Liam**_

_**Step 3: Become friends with Reagan **_

Step 3 was totally there to help with step 1. That was it. Only reason.

(_Sure _ it was.)

And then Reagan had to get her that damn catering job.

With the Ashcroft family drug den out of what was, she discovered, a very profitable business, Karma had stepped into pick up some of the slack. First it was a job at an ice cream parlor.

That lasted a week.

Apparently throwing a double-chocolate cone dipped in hot (very fucking hot) fudge at a customer was frowned upon.

Karma's argument that said customer was a best-friend-fucking douche and that throwing hot fudge at his balls was probably doing all of woman-kind a favor?

That didn't help her keep the job.

Then there was the car wash.

And, God, some people were so sensitive about getting their Mercedes accidentally keyed.

And it's tires accidentally slashed.

And it's _BookMbile_ vanity plate accidentally..

Well, let's just say the hot fudge was the least of Liam's ball's trouble after that.

Then along came Reagan. And in a gesture of goodwill that Karma was entirely sure was all Amy's doing, the older girl offered to help.

(And Karma totally wasn't thinking about _how_ Amy might have convinced Reagan to help her.)

(Or what body parts it might have involved.)

(And she was _totally_ not hoping it was tongue-related.)

(Nope. Not at all.)

So, Reagan pulled some strings and Karma was Crown City Catering's newest cater-waiter.

Step 3 was _so_ on.

And, of course, step 3 meant spending more time with Reagan. Cater-waiter training (which was about 1000 times more complicated than Karma had expected). Meeting all her new co-workers. Getting the dirt on who was cool, who to avoid, who couldn't take no for an answer.

Karma discovered, much to her shock, that step 3 was actually somewhat easier than step 1.

Maybe, she thought, it was the lack of history between them.

Maybe it was that she didn't worry about accidentally crossing lines with Reagan. She wasn't constantly watching her every step and thinking twice about her every word.

Maybe, just _maybe_, it was that Reagan was actually pretty fucking awesome. Maybe it was that Karma was starting to discover exactly why Amy loved the older girl so much.

(But it definitely had nothing to do with the way Karma found herself spending a little too much time staring at Reagan's lips.)

(Or the way Karma's stomach jumped when Reagan ended her pre-Karma's-first-party-pep talk by slapping her ass.)

(You're gonna kill it, she said. Kill it!)

(And it had absolutely nothing to do with the way Karma's fingers lingered just a little too long when she helped Reagan tie her little black cater-waiter tie or how those fingers might have brushed against the soft skin of Reagan's neck or how Karma found herself wondering - without much guilt or but a bit of surprise - what that same soft skin would taste like on her tongue.)

Nope. None of that.

But, all of those things might have had _something _ to do with what happened next…

Next being their next catering gig.

A Squirkle party.

(And. seriously, Karma was _totally_ a Google girl from now on.)

That was where she saw Liam for the first time since the hot fudge and the tires and the unfortunately placed license plate.

And he was _nice_. And polite. And so _obviously_ smitten with her.

And he was _so_ sorry.

(And if a small frown appeared on Reagan's face when she saw Liam and Karma talking? Or if … was that anger?... flashed in Reagan's eyes when Liam took Karma's hand and asked for forgiveness? For a second chance?)

(Karma didn't notice.) (And she totally didn't notice the tray Reagan dropped - loudly - on a table right after Karma said that 'yes' she would go on a date with Liam.)

Nope. Didn't notice at all.

After all, Liam said he was sorry. He said he wanted another chance.

He said he loved her.

Sure, maybe ever since Amy's jailhouse confession, Karma had been feeling less unloved.

But she was still Karma. And the hottest guy in school had just proclaimed his love.

(And if letting Liam 'love' her was easier for Karma than thinking about Princess Sarcasm? Or Princess Sarcasm's _girlfriend_?)

(Well, duh.)

But Karma made sure he knew what it was he was getting. She laid down the law:

They were not back together.

They were, at best, 'seeing each other'.

"We are," she said, "free agents. This is an open relationship."

The 'and not a fake open one like I was in with my fake girlfriend - the one _you_ fucked' was left unspoken.

"You," Karma said, "can do whatever you want with whomever you want."

Except Amy.

Again, unspoken.

So, what happened next should have been fucking obvious.

But Karma never did do well with obvious.

Reagan got another gig catering a small Squirkle luncheon. But she wanted to spend time with Amy. So, she offered the gig to Karma, figuring it was yet another olive branch.

Go. Earn money. Spend time with your not-boyfriend.

Step number 3 was killing it. Killing it!

And Karma gratefully accepted, though some small part of her (a bigger part than she was willing to admit) thought Reagan was getting the better end of this deal.

But she took the job anyway.

Which is how Karma, ended up, not even a half hour ago, stumbling into the Squirkle men's washroom and discovering Liam with his face buried between the legs of that Zeta - Zooey - Zippy (like it fucking _matters_) girl's legs.

(And yes, stumbling is what she's going with and _not_ 'followed the two of them in there because she _knew_ what the douche face was doing, though she didn't actually think he'd be doing it with his face'.)

So, Karma did the only reasonable thing she could do.

(After listening, for probably longer than she should have, to the other girl's moans and watching, probably more intently than she should have, the way the other girl's hands gripped Liam's head, pulling him into her.)

(And if Karma wondered, even for a second, if she was more jealous of her or _of him_, well that got quickly filed into the 'we'll deal with that later and later means oh fuck no' bin.)

She slapped her. Karma slapped Zeta - Zooey - Zippy right across her slutty little cheek.

Karma slapped _her_ because she sure as fuck wasn't touching Liam - she _knew_ where he'd been -and told Liam to stay the fuck away from her and stormed off in a huff.

She swore off Bookers. She swore off dating. She swore off _men_.

Maybe, she thought, as she peeled out of the Squirkle parking garage (as much as the Good Karma truck _could _peel), maybe Reagan and Amy had the right idea.

Maybe, Karma thought, I should just be a lesbian.

And that was the beginning. The beginning of the greatest (or most abso-fucking-lutely insane) plan Karma had ever had.

And all she needed was Reagan. It was foolproof.

(And if there was a giant flashing fucking NEON-lit flaw in Karma's plan?)

(You're not gay, _remember_? Came out as straight to mom and dad, remember?)

You, Karma Marie Ashcroft, are as straight as it fucking gets.

Well, Karma wasn't thinking about _that_.

(Much.)

* * *

Amy is about to cum.

Well, that's not entirely true.

Amy rolled past 'about to cum' about forty-five minutes ago.

And, she vaguely recalls, it was about forty minutes ago when she went screaming - literally - right on by 'I'm cumming'.

She has a slightly better recollection of visiting that same area - and screaming just as loudly - about twenty minutes ago.

That, Amy knows, was when Reagan added the second finger.

"We're working our way up to three, Shrimps," she'd said. "It's like a marathon, baby. Gotta stretch first."

Amy's not entirely sure - her body is still trembling so bad and her brain is such an orgasm clouded mess - but she thinks she might have pulled something during her stretches.

But, after one more climax fifteen minutes ago, Amy's pretty sure she could've broken her leg and it wouldn't fucking matter.

And if that one didn't feature any screaming? That's fine. Amy knows Reagan prefers her silent 'am I cumming or dying' gasping orgasm to all others.

(It reminds her of their first time. In Amy's room. With her family in the house.)

(Amy remembers that one. She remembers Farrah knocking on the door to wish her good night a little more.)

(It's hard to forget hearing your mother's voice the first time someone - a _girl_ someone - is sucking on your clit and slowly working one finger inside you.)

Amy groans and her back arches against the couch as Reagan slides those two fingers - and sweet Jesus, Amy thinks, three is going to fucking kill me - out slowly, stopping at the edge of her girlfriend's entrance.

Tomorrow, Amy would be so proud of herself for staying still, for not bucking her hips, for not grabbing Reagan's wrist and slamming those fingers back inside.

She would be proud, if not for what happens next..

"Aren't you glad?" Reagan asks and that husky voice almost does Amy in again. She never understood what people said someone sounded like sex.

(After the first time Reagan whispered 'Cum for me Amy. Cum all over me' in her ear while she rubbed her clit, Amy understood.)

"Aren't you glad," Reagan says again, knowing full well that when her girlfriend is in this state, repetition is key. "Aren't you glad I have my shift to her?"

Amy tenses and Reagan feels it and Amy knows she feels it and the blonde can practically _hear _the smile on her girlfriend's face.

"Aren't you glad I gave my shift to _Karma_?"

And that's why Amy won't be proud tomorrow. Because her hips do buck, then. And it's all she can do to _not_ grab Reagan's wrist.

But then, she doesn't have to. Because even as the name - the _right_ name - leaves Reagan's lips, she's sliding those fingers back into Amy, curling them as she slips them home, the tips of her fingers rubbing against that spot she knows sends Amy into orbit.

"_Fuuuuuck…" _Amy feels like the bottom just dropped out of the room and she's in free fall. Her stomach lurches like it does when she rides the Ferris Wheel, that feeling of being totally out of control, almost like she's watching from outside her own body.

(If she was, she might been better prepared for…)

"_Fuck Reagan… fuck fuck fuck."_

Two fingers wasn't enough. She just had to flick her tongue across Amy's clit. She just had to suck on it and hum as she held it between her lips.

(_That's _Reagan's move. And it's the same tune every time - _Sexual Healing_.)

(And if that seemed an odd choice for a DJ, Amy figured it out soon enough.)

(Right around the time she discovered Reagan had changed her ringtone. And Amy realized that, yes Virginia, hearing the song your lover hums while she makes you cum can, in fact, make you soak your panties at the most inopportune times.)

Amy settles back down onto the couch and manages, barely, to pry one eye open and glare at her girlfriend.

Reagan stares up at her. And Amy doesn't - _can't_ \- miss the fact that Reagan's chin is resting on her thigh which means she's still in striking distance if she wants to shut Amy up.

(And if Amy notices the slight sheen of… _her_… all over Reagan's chin and lips?)

(Well, she's amazingly fucking proud of herself for not cumming all over again.)

"I thought," Amy starts, pausing to make sure Reagan doesn't lunge back in or twist those fingers a little - and Amy still _can't_ get used to having a conversation with someone when that someone is _inside_ her. "I thought," she says, convinced Reagan will let her finish, "we agreed you wouldn't do that anymore."

Reagan blinks her eyes and smiles - the picture of perfect innocence.

(A picture that would seem so much more innocent if she wasn't, you know, naked.)

(Or, you know, knuckle deep in her girlfriend.)

"We agreed I wouldn't do what?" Reagan asks.

"You know what," Amy replies, doing her best to leave the snark out of it because she knows what happens when she gets snarky.

(She gets punished.)

(So maybe she should _add_ some snark.)

"No," Reagan says. "Seriously, what?" She smirks and Amy knows she's fucked.

(And yes, Amy sees the irony in that thought.)

"Oh," Reagan says, leaning dangerously close to the one spot Amy both wants her to touch and…

No… come to think of it, there's no 'both'.

Amy just wants her to touch it. Again.

"I remember now," Reagan says. "We agreed I wouldn't say her name." The smirk grows wider and Amy braces herself against the couch.

This is going to hurt.

(Hurt so fucking _good_.)

"Rea…"

Reagan's not home right now. Please leave a message and she'll call you back as soon as she's done undoing Amy Raudenfeld completely.

"We agreed," Reagan says, leaning even closer. "That I wouldn't say 'Karma'."

(And if Amy's not sure if it's the name of the lash of Reagan's tongue on her clit that sets her off, she can probably be forgiven.)

"Karma." Reagan swipes her tongue down through Amy's folds, meeting her fingers for just a moment.

"Karma." The fingers come out, only to be replaced by Reagan's tongue and Amy has just long enough to wonder how the fuck that little piece of flesh can feel so fucking _big_ before she's exploding again, moaning at the feel of Reagan lapping up every drop.

Reagan tips her head back, the fingers sliding right in again - causing Amy to moan something that sounds like Greek - and the younger girl almost hopes it's over.

(It's not.)

"Karma."

"Karma."

"Karma."

Amy rolls through what, at this point, feels like one never ending orgasm - and she manages to not have her eyes roll back up into her head (this time), but they do flutter shut.

Which totally explains what happens next.

"Karma."

"Karma."

"Karma?"

Amy hardly notices the change in tone. "Reagan…" it comes out almost like a plea, like she's begging, and the still 'with-it' part of Amy's brain recognizes how grateful she is that Reagan's the only one around to hear it.

(And if only _that_ were true…)

"Karma?"

This time, Amy's brain catches up and she recognizes the tone and

(Oh, please. Please let me be wrong. Please let me be wrong.)

then she hears it.

"I need your help."

(Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.)

Amy knows that voice. Knows it like she knows her own.

She forces her eyes open, sees Reagan first, still nude, still camped out between Amy's spread legs. Still two fingers in, still inches from Amy's clit.

And then Amy's eyes track upward.

(You have to be fucking kidding me. _Have. To. Be.)_

Karma doesn't smile, doesn't try to joke her way out of it.

She doesn't fucking move.

(Why doesn't she move?)

(And if Amy ignores the better question - why is Karma staring so intently at Reagan and where Reagan's laying and where Reagan's fingers are - well…)

(That might just be self-preservation.)

"I need your help," Karma says again and Amy snaps out of it completely. Her best friend - her _soulmate_ \- needs help.

"What do you need?" she asks.

(And how the _fuck_ does she speak when there's Reagan and fingers and a tongue and _fucking _Karma?)

Karma finally glances at Amy, but then it's right back to Reagan, like she's the only one who can help with this.

"I need…" Karma pauses, swallowing hard and licking her lips.

Finally, she says it.

"I need a lesbian."


	2. Chapter 2

Lately, if she's being honest, Reagan has imagined a lot of things coming out of Karma's mouth.

(And, if she's being _really_ honest, one or two - one being her, two being Amy - cumming on / in / because of Karma's mouth.)

The two of them have been spending quite a bit of time together, and Reagan's been learning about all the different sides of Karma.

(The front side. With those lips just begging to be kissed.)

(The side side. With the profile that curves in all the right places.)

(The back side.)(Enough said.)

Reagan's fought it, really she has. She's done everything she can to _not_ think about Karma like that.

(Discovering that the mere mention of the redhead's name was enough to drive Amy's arousal to new heights?)

(Yeah, that didn't help.)

It also hasn't helped that Reagan has discovered - to her great annoyance - that Karma is actually cool. She's actually great.

She's actually pretty fucking awesome.

(And Reagan can be forgiven for hoping that Karma really was the bitch Reagan first thought she was.)

Slowly, but surely (and honestly, not that slowly), Reagan has found herself thinking of Karma as one of her friends. One of her good friends.

One of her _best_ friends.

It doesn't help that Reagan doesn't have that many _good _friends, let alone _best_ ones.

There's Callie, the bartender at her favorite lesbian club.

But they don't talk much.

(And the fact that Callie is the first girl Reagan ever fucked? And that Callie would _love_ a repeat performance? And that it comes up _every fucking time_ they talk?)

(That might have a little something to do with it.)

And there's Lauren. But she's Amy's sister and the two of them rarely spend time together without Amy, so that doesn't really count.

(And that goes double for Shane. Which Reagan is secretly grateful for because, fuck it, there's only so much of Mr. Fabolous she can take.)

And there's Amy.

Reagan loves her. She's truly, madly, deeply in love with Amy Raudenfeld. Which, she supposes, makes her and Amy something like BFFs.

Or it would.

If that job wasn't already taken.

So, yeah, Reagan has started - for one reason or another - to start seeing Karma as something more than Amy's best friend, an obstacle to their relationship, or an overly excitable drama queen.

(Not that she still doesn't think Karma is _all_ of those things. Because, let's face it - love her or hate her - Karma is all of that.)

(And a bag of chips.)

(A bag of chips with an ass that doesn't quit. And legs… fuck… don't get her started on Karma's legs.)

(Unless 'started' means started licking. Nibbling. Running her hands up and down…)

(Fuck. Me.)

Reagan's tried. She really has.

She's tried thinking of Karma as _just_ a friend.

That's why she readily agreed when Amy asked.

"Please," Amy had said. "Please stop saying her name while you're fucking me."

Reagan agreed. Promised she'd stop.

(It might have been a somewhat more binding agreement if Amy's head hadn't been between Reagan's thighs at that moment.)

(Amy might have been a bit of a baby dyke, but fuck was she a natural with her tongue.)

That promise lasted until the next time. Alone. In a bathroom stall at a club Reagan was working.

(And _that_? Was all Amy's fault. She was the one who'd come up behind Reagan while she was spinning. She was the one who'd gone all grind happy on Reagan's ass.)

(She was the one who'd whispered her little fantasy in Reagan's ear. The one where she hid out under Reagan's deck. The one where she fucked Reagan with her fingers while she spun.)

(Like Reagan had a choice after _that_.)

She needed Amy to be quick. And even though Amy was still a bit lacking in the stamina department, Reagan knew even she wouldn't be fast enough to keep them from getting caught.

Not without help.

So, maybe Reagan had broken her promise. Maybe she had whispered Karma's name in Amy's ear just as she let her thumb brush against Amy's clit.

(And maybe the way Amy's eyes rolled back into her head and the way she could barely stand was enough for Reagan to decide that was one promise she was going to break again.)

(And again. And again….)

So Reagan's tried, though - if she's being honest - it hasn't worked all that well.

And Karma standing over her while she's naked?

While she's naked and fucking Amy?

While she's naked and fucking Amy and Karam's saying she _needs_ a lesbian?

Well, fuck.

Even Reagan can't fight that.

(Not that she'd really want to.)

* * *

Reagan stares up at Karma. She's surprised by the look on the redhead's face. The intensity of it. The focus.

Granted, that focus is on the spot where Reagan's fingers enter Amy, but still.

They've spent enough time together lately for Reagan to recognize the signs. The focus. The lip biting. That tone in Karma's voice.

She's got a plan.

(And Reagan - if she's being honest - can't wait to see how this one plays out.)

Still, Reagan's surprised. Of all those things she's imagined coming out of Karma's mouth

(Moans, mostly.)

(A little dirty talk, maybe.)

('Smack my ass', possibly)('Fuck me right there', definitely.)

('Lick that pussy you dirty whore' was something of a personal favorite.)

And, of course, cries for more, more, more.

An 'Oh, God' or two. A 'holy fucking shit' or three.

Reagan's name.

(Usually preceded by a drawn out 'fuck'.)

(_Fuuuuuuuuck Reagan._)

(Something like that.)

Of all those things, _this_ is one that never once occurred to her.

"I need a lesbian."

Nope. Never saw that coming.

That she's paused, fingers buried inside Amy, and hasn't moved since Karma said it - _I need a lesbian_ \- speaks to Reagan's shock.

For a moment, she's almost forgotten where her hand is.

But then Amy shifts, ever so slightly, and Reagan snaps back to reality.

And for the first time she can ever recall - definitely the first time since her first time - Reagan is naked with a girl, with her fingers right where she loves them best.

And she has no fucking idea what to do.

Her gaze flicks from Karam's intense stare

(Still locked on _that_ spot.)

to Amy's face.

Amy is anything but focused. She's staring at Karma, but Reagan knows that look.

Amy isn't seeing a thing.

All she's doing is feeling.

Reagan's eyes dart back to Karma

(Just in time to see her lick her lips. Totally subconsciously, Reagan's sure.)

And suddenly?

Reagan may not know what to do, but she knows _exactly _what she _wants _to do.

Amy's face is flushed a shade of red that Reagan is pretty sure isn't found in nature. Even Karma's hair doesn't compare.

(And Reagan doesn't spare even single thought about whether the carpet matches the drapes.)

(Nope. Not even one thought.)

(Spoiler: It doesn't.)

(But it's pretty fucking close. When, you know, there's much carpet there.)

Reagan _wants _ to feel bad for Amy. Really she does. She knows how private her girlfriend is.

And, she supposes, if the roles were reversed?

If say, Callie had walked in while Amy was knuckle deep inside Reagan and her tongue was inches from Reagan's clit?

Yeah, Reagan would probably be at least a little embarrassed.

(Of course, Callie _is_ smoking hot. And she's definitely into girls.)

(And she always did want a threesome.)

So, maybe, there'd be a little less embarrassment and a little more arousal?

And considering _that _is what finally does it. What makes Reagan notice what should have been obvious the whole fucking time.

Those fingers inside Amy?

They've gotten considerably wetter since Karma walked in.

If mentioning Karma's _name _can push Amy over the edge…

Reagan can't help letting a little smirk cross her lips.

Because, maybe? That red flush to Amy's cheeks?

Maybe she's not so much ashamed as she is _fucking turned on_.

Without moving her hand or even bothering to cover up, Reagan turns her attention back to Karma.

"You need a _what_?"

Reagan heard her the first time. Heard her perfectly.

But right now, she needs Karma to focus again, at least for a moment.

At the sound of Reagan's voice, Karma's eyes leave _that_ spot for the first time since she realized _exactly _ what was going on

(Which is a total fucking lie. Karma realized long before she said a word. She realized the moment she walked in the door and saw Reagan's ass in the air and Amy's head thrown back.)

Karma blinks, trying to focus in on Reagan's face

(and not on her hand)

(or her breasts)

(or, _fuck_, her ass)

"A lesbian," Karma repeats but the word croaks out of her like a high note breaking out of a teenage boy and she clears her throat and tries again.

"I _need_ a lesbian."

(And she can only hope that neither Reagan nor Amy notices the little extra emphasis on _need_.)

(She can hope.)

(But it would be futile.)

"Well," Reagan says, still not moving or covering up

(Like she hasn't noticed the way Karma's eyes keep roaming over her body.)

(Or the way Karma's gaze is making her wetter by the second.)

"You're in luck," Reagan continues. "Two lesbians," she tips her head toward Amy. "At _your _service."

Karma doesn't say anything for a moment, but Reagan can see the way her lips are twitching. The way her fingers are fumbling with the hem of her cater-waiter shirt.

(Like they did right before Karma thanked her for getting her the job.)

(And then asked her if it was just to keep her away from Amy.)

(And sometimes, Reagan can't remember why the two of them took so long to become friends.)

Reagan sees the signs and realizes, about a half a second too late

(Amy would've seen it sooner)

that Karma is about to say something, well, something totally Karma.

"Yeah… no." Karma says. "I mean you... " She glances at Amy who's starting to rally a bit.

(Reagan will have to do something about _that_.)

"You won't work," Karma says. "I need a… " she's fumbling for the words and, as Amy comes back to Earth, _she _realizes that Karma is about to step in it. As only Karma can do.

"I need a _real_ lesbian."

* * *

Reagan's eyes narrow and Amy's shut.

(Amy knows Karma didn't mean it how it sounded, She _knows_ that.)

(She also knows that Karma and Reagan have become friends and that Reagan doesn't automatically take every opportunity to start a fight with Karma. Not like she used to.)

(And Amy _knows_ abso-fucking-lutely none of that matters now.)

"Karma..." Amy starts, trying to head this train wreck off at the pass, but her words trail off as she suddenly realizes _exactly _where she is and _exactly_ where Reagan - or certain parts of her, at least, are.

(And, oh fuck, if the ground could open up and swallow her right now, Amy would _so_ get over that fear of being buried alive.)

"Karma," Reagan says slowly and in a tone Amy recognizes - and _fears_ \- "I know it might seem like Amy's just, you know, trying the whole girl thing on for size."

(A phase. Say it, Reagan. It might seem like this is just a phase.)

(And even the thought of it get Reagan's back up.)

(She's getting pissed.)

(Pissed at the implication. Pissed at the suggestion. Pissed at the thought that there's any way in hell she couldn't fuck Amy right out of a phase and into never leaving her bed ever again.)

(And if Reagan's suddenly more concerned with proving a point than with whatever other possible awesomeness this might have led to?)

(That's so _not_ going to end well for Amy.)(Unless, you know, you count cumming _again_, this time right in front of Karma, as 'ending well'.)

Amy groans as she hears Reagan speak, quickly realizing that this this conversation - awkward as it already is - is about to turn into a pissing contest between her girlfriend and her best friend and that's not something she wants to -

And then - involuntarily - Amy's eyes squeeze shut and the groan turns into a moan, one Amy tries to swallow as quickly as possible

(but she's not even close to fast enough)

as Reagan continues to gently flex her fingers.

The ones _inside _Amy.

And Amy prays to every God she can think of that Karma didn't hear. That she didn't see.

That she didn't notice.

Amy manages to open one eye and glance at Karma,

And the look on her best friend's face is all Amy needs to see to know her prayers have gone unanswered.

And then Reagan flexes her fingers again and this time Amy can't even try to hold back the moan.

(And where is that swallow me whole ground when you need it?)

"I mean, sure," Reagan continues, her fingers moving slowly, up and and down in the tight confines

(though not as tight as a few minutes ago)

of Amy's pussy. "Lots of straight girls probably find themselves naked on couches," Reagan continues, seemingly ignoring what she's doing to Amy.

(Amy _knows_ better.)

(And she's so going to kick Reagan's ass for this.)

(Once she can fucking walk again.)

"I mean, it's the trendy thing now, right?" Reagan asks. Her hand presses forward, moving those fingers deeper into Amy.

(Amy didn't even know she went that deep.)

Amy's hands clutch at the couch, at the air.

(If she were close enough, Amy would grab Karma.)

(What she would do with her after that...)

(The thought of it forces out another moan.)

Reagan rolls right on, her eyes locked on Karma - whose gaze is now shifting between Reagan's hand and Amy's flushed face, the realization oh, so obvious in the redhead's eyes.

(She's fucking her. Reagan is fucking her right in front of me.)

(She's _fucking_ her. She's fucking _Amy_.)

Karma's too wrapped up in the sight before her to notice the way she's trembling. Amy's too far gone to even notice Karma's in the room.

Reagan notices it all.

"Everybody's into experimenting now," Reagan says. "So many girls just begging for a 'real' lesbian's fingers inside them."

(And if Reagan twists her fingers, just slightly, as she says 'inside'?)

(Totally a coincidence.)

"So many 'straight' girls," Reagan says, making the air quotes with her free hand.

(_And_ with her not so free hand.)

(And yeah, Amy totally didn't just whimper. Nope.)

(Reagan makes a mental note of 'air quotes' and the sound it brought out of her girlfriend.)

(She'll be using that one again.)

"So many straight girls just giving it a go," Reagan says. "Just trying it out. Seeing what all the fuss is about."

(And if Reagan's fingers swirl inside Amy, in the way Reagan knows she loves? If it, as Reagan hoped, brings out a low growl of a 'fuck' from her girlfriend?)

(Let's see a boy do that.)

"And I'm sure it would be easy for you," Reagan says, "since you've known straight Amy all these years, to think she might be one of _those _girls."

Reagan's head dips closer to Amy and the blonde suddenly realizes where her girlfriend is headed and what she's going to do.

And Amy wants to stop her. Really she does,

(No, she doesn't. Karma or not. Amy doesn't care.)

(The hand that slips from the back of the couch to the back of Reagan's head is proof of that.)

"But I can assure you, Karma," Reagan says, smirking at the feel of Amy's hand,letting her girlfriend guide her down

(and her breath is hot on Amy's skin and on her lips and oh fuck Amy can't believe she's really going to -)

Reagan's tongue slips out, flicking twice against Amy's clit as her fingers press against just the right spot.

And Amy cums with a loud, deep-throated moan, the kind that would soak Reagan's panties - if she was wearing any - there's no way Karma doesn't notice.

There's no way she doesn't know exactly what's going on.

But there's no way Amy even cares as she spirals into the most mind-blowing rush of her life.

(And if the way Karma shudders in place, the way her breath comes in short labored gasps, the way her legs go weak and she can't quite think of her own name is a sign that watching Reagan fuck her best friend just did for her what Liam _never_ could?)

(All the more reason Karma thinks. All the more reason she _needs_ a lesbian.)

"I can assure you, Karma," Reagan says, her tongue darting out between her words to lick Amy off her lips. "There's only _real_ lesbians here."

Karma swallows. Hard.

"I can...um… see that," she says, incredibly proud of herself for even getting that out. "But… um… maybe 'real' wasn't exactly the word I was looking for?"

"Then what was the word, Karma?" Reagan bites. She's still a bit pissed.

"Um… I...uh…"

Karmas tongue tied. What she just saw, what she just _felt_ has left her speechless and confused and

(and it would be so much easier to talk to Reagan if she wasn't so naked)

(and if there weren't traces of Amy on her cheeks and her lips and - fuck - that tongue that she keeps sliding out.)

"Well?" Reagan asks.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Amy says, and both girls turn toward her.

Amy props herself up on her elbows, the last fifteen minutes having robbed her of any remaining sense of shame at her own nakedness.

"She doesn't need a 'real' lesbian," Amy says, glaring at Karma. "She needs a _single _lesbian. An _easy_ lesbian. A sure-fucking-thing lesbian."

Karma blushes and Amy knows she's right.

"Karma's decided she's one of _those_ girls," Amy says, turning to Reagan. "And she wants you to help her."

"Help her?"

(And Reagan's mind goes to all the different ways she'd like to 'help' Karma.)

Amy nods. "Yup," she says. "She wants you to be her pimp," she says. "Karma wants you to find her a girl to fuck."


End file.
